


Songs About Your Boyfriend

by cryingoverspilledvodka



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst, Established Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov, Gratuitous Russian, Happy Ending, Love Triangle, M/M, Pining, Romance, Unreliable Narrator, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-09
Updated: 2017-01-09
Packaged: 2018-09-15 08:01:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 17,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9225851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cryingoverspilledvodka/pseuds/cryingoverspilledvodka
Summary: Victor didn't understand Katsuki like Yuri did. It was impossible for him to do so. Victor had never had an idol, never had someone to look up to. He had set all the records himself. Katsuki and Yuri had Victor, and thus they had each other. That was something just between them, something that Victor couldn't be a part of. It may not be marriage, but it was a commitment in itself. Or it was to Yuri. And anyway, Katsuki wasn't married yet.---Yuri is in love with Victor's ambition, deeply in love with Victor's skating- and stupidly in love with Victor's fiancé





	1. Victor

**Author's Note:**

> 'All these songs I've written about your girlfriend/ are just killing time while my heart's on the mend/ because I never made her smile like that'
> 
> Songs About Your Girlfriend by Los Coampesinos!

Looking back, Yuri thought that the first time he saw Victor Nikiforov skate was the first time he fell in love.

Victor was all lines back then, young and angled with potential. Eyes like a storm, brilliant, blue and waiting to erupt into lightning. He was like this other-worldly thing that had fallen through the gaps between dream and reality. Yuri had been struck then, deep down into the marrow of his bones. Yuri could not have known then, how truly and utterly Nikiforov would ruin his life. But for the first time, Yuri _wanted_ something in every sense of the word.

Watching Victor's hair spiral around him, turning with energy and skill, Yuri decided then that he wanted to move like that someday. He wanted to be within Victor's skin, to move his muscles and bend those bones with as much grace and accomplishment. Maybe even bend his body into all new shapes. Achieve all new heights.

Victor Nikiforov was an exceptionally high target to aim for.

But Yuri was determined. Falling recklessly and completely in love with the idea of not just being the next Victor Nikiforov, but excelling past him. Of transforming the very idea of him. Victor had lifted off the ice, rotating like a spinning top and landing on the ice in one, long sweep. Yuri had lost his breath then, watching from the awning for the junior training to begin once Victor had finished his own practice.

With a slow, controlled spin, Victor raised both of his arms, curved like reeds in a river, as he stilled to a stop, legs extended to points. Every inch emitting control, right down to the heavy weight of his breath. His eyes met Yuri's from across the rink. Azure and electric. Dangerous, in a way that made the hairs on the back of Yuri's neck stand up.

 _You,_ Yuri had thought then. _I want to be you._

 

* * *

 

'It's a deal,' Victor had said and it was making a deal with the devil for Yuri's soul.

Shaking hands with Victor made Yuri feel more real as a skater, somehow. Like Victor's acknowledgement alone had brought him to life. Victor had been all charm, smile elusively confident from one angle and blatantly sinister from another. That had always been Victor to Yuri. Duplicitous to the very core of his nature, like a coin spinning. Long hair, short hair. High jumps, low spins. Sincerity, irony. It's what gave Victor an edge in competing, what gave Victor sole control over Yuri's potential.

Yuri won his Junior World Championship. He signed over his skating, his life, to Victor Nikiforov the next morning.

Victor brought Yuri out onto the ice the way Yuri imagined sirens led sailors to their deaths. He was all crooked fingers, teeth flashing and eyes sharp like the point of a dagger. Victor put Yuri through rigorous training between his own choreographing. Axels, counter-turns and quads- only for Victor retaliate like he was only building Yuri up to knock him back down as Victor twirled into hydroblades and leapt into Russian splits. Yuri would watch as Victor shifted personalities on the ice the way most people changed clothes. Arms bent in seduction, then legs spread in surrender.

'Wanting to win isn't enough, Yuri,' Victor said once between sessions in perfectly practiced English, brushing ice off his skate with an un-gloved hand.

Victor never wore gloves on the ice, so Yuri never did either.

' _Vdokhnoveniye. To yest' to, chto imeyet znacheniye._ You have to find what inspires you.'

Yuri wanted to say that winning was the ultimate inspiration. But his heart betrayed him, thumping in his chest like a traitor to the beat of _you, Victor, you._

If Victor suspected anything, he didn't show it. Instead, he had smiled down at Yuri from his excessive height, eyes almost warm, like they were thawing. Yuri gritted his teeth, baring them to Victor's implied compassion. He was no child.

'I know what I skate for,' Yuri said, using English not to show that he could, but to show Victor that he was not afraid of switching things up either. Yuri wanted to infiltrate Victor's very being as a skater, slide under his skin and show to the world the next big surprise through the very veil of Victor Nikiforov's great shadow.

That it would Yuri Plisetsky, not Victor Nikiforov who took the gold medal in the Grand Prix Final someday. Victor grinned, face sharp like a blade.

'I believe you.'

Skating with Victor for the sole purpose of _beating_ Victor was the most addictive thing Yuri had ever gotten himself caught up in. Each quad was an invitation and each rotation brought Yuri spinning closer and closer to ruin. Yuri always wanted to do more, to achieve more. To make Victor do that little smile from behind a perfectly poised finger. The one sign of surprise Victor ever showed anyone.

If that wasn't love, then Yuri didn't know what was.

 

* * *

 

If watching Victor skate was like falling in love with a storm threatening to drown you, then watching Yuuri Katsuki skate was like letting someone catch you after you fell into through the clouds the first time.

Katsuki was all comfort, easy step sequences languid with emotion and sweeping spread eagles exuding warm welcome. A direct contrast to Victor's challenging quads and flying entries- Katsuki wasn't looking to attack anyone. Inconsistent jumps in skill, but maddeningly consistent in how they made Yuri feel. Where Victor was ignition, Katsuki was deep molten earth. Katsuki's determination was so ill-conceived to Yuri that it frustrated him to watch, made him itch in a way Victor Nikiforov never had.

Yuri wanted to beat Victor, to erase him. But Katsuki? Katsuki was magentic, and Yuri wanted to pull him forward with him to the senior podium once Yuri made it there.

It could've been the fact they shared a name. Yuri and Yuuri. Yuri wouldn't go so far as to say he was _protective_ of the Japanese applicant. Because that would _insane_. After all, Yuri didn't even know the guy. But Katsuki had done ballet, like Yuri. He had come first in his junior division, like Yuri. He was chasing the thunder of Victor's career. Like Yuri. They were concurrent to each other, both steeped in Nikiforov's shadow and both circling the other in their respective prefectures.

It was a connection. A feeble one, perhaps. But Yuri felt it, watching Katsuki build momentum all the way to the Grand Prix. Maybe there was more to the world, more to skating, than the work of Victor Nikiforov. Maybe Yuri could aim to grow out of the skin he'd fallen in love with, blossom out into someone new altogether.

Then Katsuki had failed. Miserably.

Yuri sought him out after the exhibition. Found the _goviuk_ crying in the bathroom, voice trembling in a language Yuri didn't understand, breathing heavy with tears. Katsuki was shaking, staring at Yuri from behind his glasses and his eyes were the colour of dirt after rain. Yuri felt his heart stutter in his chest at the open sign of weakness.

Katsuki was better than this. He had to be.

'Hey!' Yuri shouted, English harsh. Katsuki blinked at him. 'I'll be competing in the Senior Grand Prix Final next year. Maybe it's time for you to retire. I don't think we need two _Yuri's_ in the same bracket.'

It was an invitation. One Yuri hoped Katsuki understood. But Katsuki's eyes darkened, his mouth downturning in defeat and Yuri felt anger rise up in him. Anger at Victor's passive win at the final, anger at Yuri for suspecting anything different, anger at Katsuki for proving Yuri wrong. For proving that Victor Nikiforov was the only standard worth setting.

 _'Loser!'_ Yuri spat, hoping Katsuki would find the word as cutting as Yuri did when he first heard it.

And then Yuri left, seeking Victor and Yakov out. Katsuki's face stuck in his mind like a toe pick on an uneven surface. Deep, scratching thought right in Yuri's brain. _Stupid_ , Yuri thought. Katsuki was a stupid, dwindling skater and he wore his heart too openly on his sleeve, letting it get broken through sheer carelessness and now Yuri would walk into the Senior Grand Prix final with nothing but Victor's skating to look forward to.

Fine, then. If Victor was all Yuri had to beat, then he would do it. His heart beat with it, his lungs breathed it in. This competition with Victor was all Yuri had ever known anyway. It was losing sight to try and add a third dynamic. Distracting.

Yuri wouldn't let himself be distracted.

That is, until later that evening, when apparently Katsuki must've fallen and hit his head, as the man drunkenly swaying on the dancefloor was a far cry from the bumbling mess of raw pirozhki dough from earlier. Then, Yuri found himself being very sincerely distracted. Katsuki was all liquid heat, fluid and burning his way through the crowd, beckoning strangers to him in a way that struck Yuri vividly of Victor of when they first met. The movement of Katsuki's body was an echo of his skating, but whether it was fueled by dutch courage or sheer insanity, the confidence Katsuki exuded was a distant accomplishment to his spectacular failure in the competition.

Katsuki's eyes found Yuri from across the room, burning like log-fire.

'Oi, Russian Punk!' he cried, arms waving Yuri over. Yuri scoffed, but took the bait, abandoning Victor for Katsuki's drunken ambling. Katsuki's English was too good for how drunk he was, American twang he had adopted through learning pronounced; 'Dance with me.'

' _Eh?_ I'm not dancing with you, loser,' Yuri said, venom genuine. Dancing is what Yuri and Katsuki shared, not what they competed. It had no business between them now.

'Fine. I challenge you then!' Katsuki announced, one hand pointing at Yuri in triumphant exuberance, quickly underdone by Katsuki staggering under his own movement. 'A dance off!'

' _Ahuyet!_ Why?!' Yuri shouted back, gaining the attention of other guests. Other guests like Victor, who Yuri could feel watching them. His blood boiled beneath his skin. 'Why would I want to do that?'

' _Shiranai!'_ Katsuki answered smiling widely and swaying like Yuri was supposed to have any fucking idea what that meant, his stupid black hair frizzing. 'I'll give you whatever you want if you win!'

Yuri thought for a moment. 'And what if you win, _mudak_?'

Katsuki blinked at Yuri with his big, ugly brown eyes, glasses from earlier missing. He leant back, knees buckling slightly like he might topple over, hands coming up in a vague gesture. This was the same man Yuri had admired the step sequence of just a mere twenty-four hours ago. Now he couldn't even stand.

'Tell you what,' Katsuki said, suddenly finding his footing and leaning forward, his hands grasping Yuri's shoulders. He was very close, noses almost bumping. Yuri felt his stomach flip, like when you take an extra step in the dark. Katsuki looked into Yuri's eyes, glazed over with drink and inspiration. Yuri could see inspiration in a person from a mile away. 'Beat me, and you won't have to find out. _Hai?_ '

And just like that, Yuri was being caught through the clouds all over again. Buoyancy.

In the end, neither Katsuki or Yuri could tell who won their dance battle. They were almost evenly matched, leaping and bounding in time to some awful American pop song. But before Yuri could get a chance to grill Katsuki about it, about the aforementioned prize, Katsuki was swept into the arms of an estatic looking Victor Nikiforov.

Victor's face was something Yuri hadn't seen before. It was cracked wide open, mask completely slipping. He looked _happy._ (Not that you could trust such a thing from Victor). Hands wandered, Katsuki's blushing stark in the yellow light of the ballroom and the whole thing was getting _very personal._ Victor's eyes shimmered from across the room and people whispered in Russian, French, English- anything they could speak. Yuri tried not to listen, but he couldn't help himself. He watched as Victor guided Katsuki across the dancefloor as effortlessly as Victor skated across ice. Like Katsuki and his long, delicate fingers had been specifically designed by the gods to be led by Victor Nikiforov's hand.

Like before, Yuri could see inspiration a mile off.

Yuri tried to ignore the twist in his gut at the sight. But it wasn't fair. Katsuki was _Yuri's._ The one little bit of the skating world Yuri had managed to hold onto for himself, out of reach of Victor.Yuri had known about him first, had followed his career and secretly studied him as a true rival. What did Victor even know of Yuuri Katsuki?

Watching now, it looked like the only thing Victor had interest in getting to know of Katsuki was his hotel room number.

If watching Victor and Katsuki skate was like falling in love, then watching them dance  _together_ was like having his heart broken.

 

* * *

 

'Yurio?'

'Yeah?'

'Will you teach me how to land a quad Salchow?'

Yuri almost said no. Almost.

Katsuki hit the ice for the fourth time at speed, body kicking up ice dust as it skidded along from the momentum. Yuri sighed, making his frustration evident. He leant down, helping Katsuki up, realising too late what he was doing. Katsuki was looking at him, eyebrows together in confusion. Katsuki's fingers felt warm beneath his gloves, the tips of Yuri's own tingling at the heat. Yuri felt like his heart was stopping- just a little. He frowned, showing teeth and dropping Katsuki's hands like they burnt him.

'That was terrible. Even for you.'

Katsuki straightened up, just as he had the other times. He brushed the ice off his joggers, kicking his toe pick into the surface to shake off build-up. Yuri crossed his arms, staring at Katsuki until the loser had the balls to look him in the eye. 'I know. The speed-'

' _Net!_ Not the speed, pig!' Yuri snapped, kicking off into his own momentum and turning to face Katsuki. 'You're not paying attention. Too focused on the landing. But it's your take-off that's fucked.'

Katsuki's mouth thinned at the swearing. He was quite the baby about it, as Yuri had learned. But Yuri didn't care. Cutlet-bowl had to learn. Yuri sped up, trying to take his time but confidence won out as Yuri took off gracefully. He wanted Katsuki to see, to feel the way Yuri felt when he achieved something like this. It had to feel like nothing- organic, natural. Like breathing, something one didn't think about doing. That was how Victor jumped. That was how Yuri had trained himself to jump.

He landed, legs extended into a perfect counter before he slowed to a stop. He glared at Katsuki from across the ice. 'Again.'

Katsuki nodded, eyes bright. Yuri really hated looking at Katsuki's eyes without the glasses. Made him seem naked, somehow. Like he was exposing something that Yuri felt wasn't for him. Made Katsuki look more human than Victor had ever appeared to Yuri. It made his stomach feel- weird. Cold and swirly, almost nauseous. It was unpleasant.

Yuri watched as Katsuki echoed Yuri to his ability, speed likely not enough from what Yuri could tell. But Katsuki was trying, he guessed. There was something in Katsuki's face that spoke of thought though, like near everything Katsuki did. Yuri didn't think there was anyone more wrapped up in their own head than Victor Nikiforov, but here was Katsuki shocking Yuri's expectations once again. Yuri knew it was going to happen before it did.

Katsuki hit the ground, toppling backwards as he landed from lack of speed and his weight carrying him down.

'You suck, pork cutlet-bowl!' Yuri spat and he meant it. Before Katsuki could say anything, Yuri tightened his fists. 'I'll show you one more time, okay?'

And then as if summoned by God himself to divinely punish Yuri for giving into the whole folly, Victor arrived to spoil the impromptu training session. He called out across the ice, waving his gloved hands at them. Victor always wore gloves on the ice now, like Katsuki. Katsuki skated back from Yuri at a speed that could've helped him in the fucking Salchow. Yuri _tsked_ , unimpressed.

He ignored Victor's knowing smile. _Bliad'_ smiled too much anyway. Smiles were just one of those things Victor tried on. Like his skating persona, like being coach. Like Yuuri Katsuki.

In the end, Victor always stopped smiling. Just a matter of time before he stopped everything else, too.

 

* * *

 

Watching Katsuki seduce Victor through _Eros_ was the biggest kick in the teeth Yuri had ever experienced.

It was _Yuri_ who had spent all that time learning Katsuki's name, studying his step sequences and memorising the name of Katsuki's barren hometown before the Grand Prix even started. Victor had just done what Victor Nikiforov had done best- put on a dramatic fucking show. And Katsuki was falling for it _all over again_. It was like the banquet, but worse because Katsuki wasn't drunk and this was skating and it was _supposed to be Yuri_ that inspired Katsuki to take command of the ice again, not Victor fucking Nikiforov.

And now Victor would coach Katsuki, stepping down as Yuri's only possible consolation prize. No rival, no one to beat. Nothing.

Victor had given Yuri a program like he had asked but nothing to compete for with it. He'd stolen Yuri's rival from right under him like it was his divine right to do so. Bundling into Katsuki's arms Yuri's drive, potential and inspiration like they were Victor's to take and spend as he went. No Katsuki to intimidate, no Victor to outdo.

Both Victor and Katsuki had managed to crush Yuri's entire skating objective in three measly minutes.

Yuri didn't stay for the results. He knew the fucking results.

 

* * *

 

It was taking time, but Yuri was learning to step out of Victor's shadow.

Lilia had been unrelenting, bending and breaking Yuri's body and spirit down until they were soft. Malleable. But unlike Victor, who as a coach, (if he could've been called that), broke Yuri down just to build him back up in his own image, Lilia left Yuri to deicde on his own how to remake himself. Every time Yuri broke down, he rebuilt himself with one less brick of Victor Nikiforov's legacy.

(Unfortunately, he may have been stealing support from Yuuri Katsuki).

Yuri didn't even realise the extent of his problem until he idly typed a 'y' into his search bar and his phone auto-corrected it to _Yuuri Katsuki_. Yuri nearly dropped his phone in disgust. Was this what he was reduced to? Studying his competition? Sure, no problem. But this? This was excessive. Yuri decided that morning that he wasn't going to search anything related to Katsuki unless absolutely necessary.

Seeing Katsuki's results from the nationals definitely counted as absolutely necessary. And this time, Yuri really did throw his phone in upset.

'Quite the temper tantrum, huh?' Mila teased in English from behind him, her slender body stretched across the awning of the rink. Yuri ignored her, staring out the windows of the rink at passing traffic. 'You saw the photo of Victor and the Japanese Yuuri didn't you?'

And her tone was just _oh so_ smug but really, Mila had no idea what she was talking about. Yuri erupted, barking at her to shut her mouth as she provoked him further by calling him jealous.

Yuri wasn't jealous. That would be pathetic. He just wasn't happy. With Victor and his scheming. With Katsuki for being so weak-willed, for not seeing past Victor's coaching for what is was. A pretty distraction. What happened to Katsuki when he realised? He'd probably quit for good, leaving Yuri to face the senior division alone without any kind of competition. And if Yuri had no competition then what was the point?

'You don't know what you're talking about, hag,' Yuri said, voice lowering to a threatening growl. Mila raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow at him, undeterred.

'Oh? So you're not even the tiniest bit jealous?' she cooed, leaning forward over the awning, taking advantage of her height over Yuri. 'After all, you spent years looking up to Victor. Can't be easy to see him with someone else.'

Jealous? Because of _Victor?_

' _Bah!'_ Yuri said, waving his hands and bending down to pick up his phone from the floor. He glared at Mila over his shoulder. 'I was right. You don't understand anything, Mila. It's actually impressive you can be so stupid.'

Mila's humour died instantly on her face. She flounced off, hair flaring like a fan at the speed of her exit. Yuri tapped his phone against his thigh, resolutely not checking the feed anymore as no doubt there wouldn't be anything useful there. The updates had all been about the skaters themselves and Yuri had seen quite enough of Victor and Katsuki's cuddling back in Hasetsu, thanks very much.

But like all the times that had come before, like Yuri's entire skating career, Victor Nikiforov carved the path forward, leaving Yuri to follow in his footsteps.

 

* * *

 

After the Cup of China, Yuri decided it was officially time to stop.

Katsuki was finished and the great Victor Nikiforov was dead as Yuri knew him.

 _Eros_ was one thing, but a quad flip? _Victor's quad flip?_ That surpassed seduction. It made Yuri think of those first few months he had known Victor. How his heart had ached with the want to be like Victor, how it had cracked and swelled with love for what Victor could do. And now Katsuki could do it, too. He could echo Victor better than Yuri had ever envisioned himself doing so. Because it wasn't about the landing, (Katsuki always messed up the landing, never putting enough speed into his take-off). It was what the quad had meant.

And what it meant was that Yuri needed to get his shit together and accept that he was most certainly not involved in the competition Victor and Katsuki were running together.

The kiss was just the icing on the terrible cake that was becoming Yuri's life. It's not like anyone's surprised, exactly. Most of the gossip rags had been reporting on a relationship between Victor and Katsuki for weeks now. But Yuri knew better. He knew the surprise on the cutlet-bowl's face was genuine, knew the smile on Victor's face was a real one simply because Yuri had never seen it before. Process of elimination.

Rivals was one thing. Yuri could be included in rivalry, could be part of that dance. He and Katsuki had been on equal footing before, chasing Victor's coattails. It had always been Yuri and Katsuki, rivals and ambitions aimed forward to Victor Nikiforov's back. But now it was  _Victor_ and Katsuki- lovers.

Yuri wasn't included in that. Couldn't be included in that.

For the first time in a long time, Yuri felt truly alone as he skated that evening. He turned in slow circles, feeling his own heart beat from adrenaline and exercise. He tried to put thoughts of Victor and Katsuki out of his mind, tried not to remember how close they would get on the ice in Hasetsu. Tried not to remember what it felt like to hold Katsuki's hand. Tried to erase the image of Victor's long arms wrapping around Katsuki like he was something Victor could  _own._

Yuri slept uneasy that night. Fine, if Katsuki and Victor wanted to get distracted, then that was their business. Yuri would show them, show Katsuki, what it really meant to compete. Falling in love was an easy thing to do. Yuri at twelve years old had done that. Winning- now that was something worth doing. 

 

* * *

 

It wasn't until weeks later on the snowy streets of Moscow that Yuri realised that he may have a problem.

A big one. Like a big, proper, fucking problem.

Katsuki was smiling down at him after his bite of katsudon pirozhki, which he had started to eat the moment Yuri had asked him to. It was something Yuri had wanted to share with Katsuki, something that wasn't skating or ballet or any of those other things that had defined them over the years. Katsudon was something special. And now Dedushka had made something just for the two of them. Victor would never understand. Katsuki's Russian was mediocre, at best, but Yuri felt his cheeks heat up with it as the cutlet-bowl told him that the pirozhki were  _vkusno._

They shared the rest between them, Katsuki talking animatedly about Yuri's performance. He said he was proud. Yuri's heart flipped like it was being fried on both sides.

'How did you know? About my birthday, Yurio?' Katsuki asked as they started walking back towards the hotel.

Yuri fidgeted with his phone in his pocket, not really wanting to answer. He glanced at Katsuki, a little suspicious, but Katsuki's eyes were all shiny curiosity behind his glasses. Not a trace of malice anywhere. How this guy had ended up with the likes of champion manipulator Victor Nikiforov never failed to stump Yuri.

'It's on your Wikipedia,  _goviuk_ ,' Yuri said, breath billowing in the cold air. Katsuki thought about that for a moment, before turning to Yuri again and Yuri could tell the idiot was smiling from beneath his surgical mask.

'I'm flattered you found me worth Googling,' he said and Yuri could just hit him.

'Shut it, pig,' Yuri muttered, looking down at his feet.

They walked in silence for a while, cars passing slowly in the snow. Yuri chewed the inside of cheek, unsure of how to ask what he wanted to ask. The hotel came into view, and Yuri knew his grandfather would be waiting for Yakov to bring him home soon. Eventually, he just blurted it out, stopping to stare up at Katsuki who looked back down at him.

'Breakfast.'

Katsuki's eyes did that thing where they changed colour just a little when he was confused. Like chocolate melting. It was distracting.

'What about it?'

'Want to get breakfast tomorrow?' Yuri clarified, only mildly frustrated with Katsuki's inability to understand immediately. Katsuki pulled his mask down, face smiling but he looked sheepish and Yuri felt his stomach drop. 

'I'd have loved to, but I'm afraid I have to leave for my flight to Fukuoka at five am,' Katsuki said and he really did sound sorry about it.

Yuri was about to tell him then they could get breakfast at four, but he knew it was unlikely his grandfather would be able to get up that early to bring Yuri back into the city centre. Besides, he had already told his family he'd spend his few days off after the competition with them. It really wouldn't be fair to return to Moscow just for one hour of the piggy's time.

Yuri really tried not to feel disappointed, but he was and it must've shown on his face as Katsuki moved forward a little to place a hand on Yuri's shoulder.

'The Grand Prix is only a month away, we'll see each again soon. And Victor will be with us then, we could all get breakfast together,' Katsuki said softly, squeezing Yuri's shoulder. He tilted his head with a smile, hair bobbing slightly at the movement. His smile was so genuine, like everything he did.

Yuri suddenly wanted Katsuki to hug him. Or he wanted to hug Katsuki. The thought felt like getting doused in freezing water.

Yuri shrugged Katsuki off with a jerk, practically jumping away from him. 'Fuck that! One time offer, piggy. Guess you'll just have to wait to eat my dust on the ice at the Grand Prix.'

Katsuki blinked once, then laughed. He turned and started making his way to the hotel entrance, replacing his mask. ' _Davai,_ Yurio!' 

Yuri watched Katsuki walk up to the door as Yakov started making his way down. He must've seen them coming from the lobby. But Yuri couldn't focus on Yakov, who was beginning to talk as he approached. Instead, Yuri watched Katsuki's back as it vanished, his heart thumping in his chest like he had just run a mile. _What was that?_

 

* * *

 

Yuri liked Otabek. A lot.

Otabek was steadfast in a way no one had ever been in Yuri's life before. Everything he did was with purpose and the purpose was never to deceive. His expressions were careful, but not guarded. He only ever said what he meant. Yuri liked that about him. Yuri didn't know anyone else who would be as clear as to why they did anything as Otabek was in telling Yuri why he had sought Yuri out. He also liked that Otabek said his eyes were like a soldiers. It made Yuri feel brave. Otabek had blown into Yuri's day and swept him off into a much nicer Barcelona than the one that had Victor fucking Nikiforov swarming about like he owned the very streets. 

Yuri hadn't seen Katsuki yet, and honestly, he wasn't even thinking about him. Or at least, he thought he hadn't been.

'You must really admire him,' Otabek said, interrupting quietly and the corners of his mouth tugging upwards very gently. Yuri paused mid-story, hand frozen in a demonstration. He frowned at Otabek, a little confused. 

'What do you mean?' he asked, half-considering he had misunderstood Otabek's English, even though it was as fluent and easy as Katsuki's was. (Yuri only felt a little self-conscious about his own in the wake of it).

'Katsuki. You talk about him a lot,' Otabek said like it was nothing, head resting on one of his hands. Yuri blushed, unable to stop himself. He hadn't even noticed.

'He's my competition,' Yuri answered, perhaps a little quickly going by Otabek's mouth twitching. 'Besides, I guess he's not terrible.'

'I guess,' Otabek echoed and Yuri thought he was making fun of him, just a little. He didn't mind it as much as he thought he would, but still it all felt a little too close for comfort. After all, Yuri had only gotten to know Otabek properly a few hours ago. They were friends- but only just.

'I just mean he's- he's okay,' Yuri stuttered, footing lost. Otabek raised one eyebrow and Yuri's blush deepened. He could feel the heat of it all the way down his neck. 'He's less annoying than Victor, definitely.'

Otabek nodded, his eyes like the obsidian stones Yuri's grandmother used to keep on the mantelpiece. Yuri couldn't stop looking at them, really. They reminded him of Victor's but he couldn't say why. It could just be the default that they were nothing like Katsuki's. That was how Yuri's mind tended to work lately. Things were like one, or other. And that which wasn't Victor had to be Katsuki. Yuri hadn't realised how much that had been present in his thinking until just this moment though. 

Otabek started talking again, thankfully changing the subject away from Katsuki and Victor. Yuri smiled, grateful and possibly something else. His confidence came back to him slowly and once again, Otabek patiently listened as Yuri started telling another story, strategically about Mila and her failed exes. Otabek was smiling and Yuri felt like he could follow the line of Otabek's mouth like a ballet barre. It was all really nice. Quite nice, actually.

Until it wasn't. Because if there was one thing Victor loved doing more than anything, it was ruining Yuri's day.

Which was exactly what he had done by showing up, with Katsuki slung over his arm like he was one of the numerous shopping bags they carried. The Japanese hags from Hasetsu were with them; Katsuki's sister and his old tutor. And next thing Yuri knew Otabek had agreed for the both of them to join a social dinner for the skaters and the hags and Yuri felt like he would gladly give up his newfound friendship for the chance to strangle Otabek on the spot. 

The dinner was relatively painless. Chris and Katsuki's friend, the Thai skater that Yuri hadn't bothered to learn the name of yet, were there, too and the conversation was pretty lax. Talking about the banquet, which Yuri still found a slight sore spot, passed over pretty quickly thankfully as now everyone was too focused on the pictures from the night itself, giving Yuri the chance to swallow down his bile at the memory of Victor and the piggy dancing like they were-

' _So_ ,' Chris said, accent drawing the word out. 'What's with the rings you two?'

And then everything went straight to hell.

They were getting married. _Of course they're getting married._   There was a condition, because with Victor there always was. Gold medal, or no marriage . Yuri was disgusted. He felt like his heart had turned to lead, sinking down past his ribs and sitting like a stone in his stomach. Weighing him all the way down. Everyone was cheering and Katsuki was floundering, like he always did, but Yuri found himself unable to focus on anything but the way Katsuki's eyes were sparkling with excitement, whether he wanted them to or not. This weekend was supposed to be about the Grand Prix, it was supposed to be about Yuri showing the world what he was capable of. Nothing should get in the way of that. 

But right now the only golden thing Yuri could think about was the one Victor Nikiforov had slipped around Yuuri Katsuki's finger. 

When they're all clearing out of the restaurant, Chris and the other guy were bouncing around Victor and Katsuki like children, taking a hand each to admire the rings. The hags were practically weeping. There was talk about a wedding date, music, guests- all the kind of talk that Yuri had never imagined Victor Nikiforov, the man who had his exes sign confidentiality agreements before deleting their number, would deign to sit through and listen to. But there he was, smiling with his sharp teeth and lightning eyes striking Yuri down.

Katsuki turned to look over his shoulder. He met Yuri's gaze, eyes liquid and Yuri was drowning.

He grabbed Otabek's arm, jerking him back. Otabek stopped immediately, looking down into Yuri's eyes and Yuri found comfort in the blackness of them, hard like glass.

'Take me somewhere,' Yuri asked, almost pleading.

Otabek nodded and they both broke off from the group. Yuri tried not to imagine Katsuki watching them leave. 

 

* * *

 

Yuri really hated Victor. With everything he had in him, Yuri hated the man.

Victor moved too fast for Yuri to see, long fingers clutching his jaw before Yuri had a chance to pull back. His blue eyes were pointed, the end of a shard of ice right into Yuri's soul. Almost like he could see it, see what Yuri had buried deep. Yuri spat the words out, unafraid of Victor. Called Katsuki and the rings they'd exchanged garbage, because they were. The whole thing was a farce and Katsuki was just too blind to see it. Victor Nikiforov had only ever cared about one thing and it was  _winning._ He was winning now, winning something Yuri suspected he didn't even understand he was competing for. But just like in skating, it was Victor Nikiforov taking the gold and Yuri Plisetsky left to catch up to it.

' _Ya sobirayus' vyigrat','_ Yuri said because it was true of the Grand Prix and be damned if Yuri was going to be chasing Victor for the rest of his life. He told Victor he'd show him, prove to Victor how incompetent a partner Katsuki was to choose. Prove how ill-suited they were on the ice.

Yuri slapped Victor away when it became apparent that Victor wasn't going to let him go. Victor said nothing, turning his back to Yuri and staring out across the Atlantic. Yuri waited, waited for Victor say something. He watched Victor's hair shift in the wind like rain clouds, silver catching in strands of white sunlight. Seconds passed, slowly into minutes and it became obvious that Victor wasn't going to say anything. Yuri kicked the dirt beneath him before turning to leave.

It wasn't like Victor to give up the last word. Maybe Yuri had gotten through to him somehow. Maybe he was actually thinking things through properly. Realising that betting a marriage of all things on a medal was beyond callous and into insanity. 

Maybe Yuri could try getting through to Katsuki next. Victor was many things, but selfless wasn't one of them. Who's to say that even if he did see the truth of his actions, he'd give Katsuki up? Fucker would probably keep going until there was nothing of Katsuki left.

Yuri smelled the salt on the wind, turning back just to say something to Victor, just to get  _something_ out of him. Something that would give Yuri an idea of what he was thinking, give Yuri a chance to see what Victor might be planning to do.

All Yuri found out was that they were both thinking about the same thing, one of the few things they had in common anymore.

Yuri doubted very much there was anything Victor thought about anymore that wasn't Yuuri Katsuki.

 

* * *

 

Victor and Katsuki weren't wearing gloves at the Grand Prix. For the first time, they went to the ice with their fingers bare. Well, almost bare.

Everywhere they went, their stupid engagement rings were on display, catching the light. Bright and golden and very, very final.

Yuri hated them.

 

* * *

 

Katsuki and Victor were not getting married.  

Yuri had done more than win the Grand Prix. He'd done what he had always wanted. His heart's only desire. Yuri Plisetsky had successfully erased Victor Nikiforov off the skating record. And he hadn't done it alone either.

Watching Katsuki's free-skate was like falling. Not falling in love, like watching Victor all those years ago, but just falling. Like your whole world had suddenly collapsed beneath you. Katsuki was  _beautiful._ More than beautiful, he was transcendent. He was doing what Yuri had always wanted for himself. Katsuki was shedding Victor's skin like a cocoon. And he was going to throw it all away? Yuri felt something fissure inside him then at that thought. Tectonic plates. Earthquake.

Katsuki had beaten Victor's free-skate record. He'd pulled himself past Victor and his expectations, pulled himself all the way up to the podium to stand by Yuri's side. It was everything Yuri had wanted since he'd first started following Katsuki's career. Katsuki couldn't quit now, he just couldn't. Yuri had set a new standard, had broken out of the spell that he had been entranced with since he was a child. Yuri Plisetsky was no longer Victor Nikiforov's successor- he was his vanquisher. 

Yuri could show Katsuki how to slay the dragon.

 _Don't forget what you want._ That's what Victor had said to Yuri before the free-skate. Like he had known all along how Yuri's heart had been beating for this one moment, how his soul had bred within him purely to be what he was about to reveal himself to be.

Yuri knew what he wanted. He'd shown the whole world. And be damned if Katsuki wasn't going to pay attention. 

'Oi, piggy,' Yuri said as they stepped off the podium. Katsuki turned in his skates, one of the assistants taking his bouquet from him. Yuri skated over, medal heavy around his neck. Yuri could see Victor at the kiss and cry, tried to ignore him. 

'I hear Victor's coming back,' Yuri said, trying to sound aloof. Like such a thing didn't matter at all. Katsuki's eyes widened, his mouth opening a little bit and Yuri couldn't look anywhere but at how pink his lips looked under the bright lights.  

'I-I guess,' Katsuki replied quietly, voice trembling slightly. Colour flushed across his nose, just under his eyes, too. Everything about Katsuki in this moment was pink.

'Don't retire,' Yuri said quickly because it was all he could think of to say. Katsuki's mouth fell open in honest surprise this time, stuttered  _ugh_ and  _oh_ ' _s_ slipping past. Before Katsuki could say anything else, Yuri pushed forward and hugged him. He wrapped his arms around Katsuki's waist and buried his face into a sequined chest, medals bumping. Katsuki squeaked from the contact, freezing for a moment, but then his arms came down around Yuri and hugged him back and  _oh._

Yuri had a pretty fair idea what it had all been about now. 

And it wasn't good. 

'Thank you, Yurio,' Katsuki said as he pulled away. He patted Yuri once on the head, like a child, before he pushed off and skated back towards Victor.

It was like the tide. Yuuri Katsuki would always go towards Victor.


	2. Yuuri

At the banquet, despite the whole not getting married thing, Katsuki and Victor were still insufferable. 

And Yuri was dying all over again.

They were holding hands and kissing. Ugly kissing, too, as the night went on and the drink became more free flowing. It wasn't like Yuri hadn't seen them kiss before. He and the whole fucking world had, for fuck's sake. But this was different, less guarded and much more comfortable. Like they had been kissing all their lives. Yuri was sure it was the drink that made Katsuki so flushed. Told himself it wasn't the way Victor slipped his hand into Katsuki's back pocket, lips on Katsuki's ear in secret whispers. Honestly, they were revolting.

And Yuri thinking so had absolutely nothing to do with the realisation that he may, or may not, have a tiny crush on Katsuki. Absolutely nothing.

Yuri had hoped to get a chance to talk to Katsuki alone, ask him properly about what Katsuki was doing next year. But Victor was keeping a tight hold on Katsuki all night, hands woven around his waist or buried in his black hair. The old geezer was probably afraid Katsuki would up and leave him in the dust like he had done the year before. What Yuri wouldn't give to see that happen, if only to watch the great Victor Nikiforov get it stuck to him.

Everyone was always around them, commenting on Victor's return, lamenting over the postponed wedding. Not one mention of Yuri and how well he did. And Yuri couldn't take it anymore, seeking Otabek out in the crowd. 

'Buy me a drink,' Yuri snapped, sitting down at the bar next to Otabek. Otabek scoffed, taking a sip of the the amber liquid in his glass. Whiskey, Yuri guessed.

'You're fifteen, remember?' Otabek replied easily, smile teasing.

' _Da_. That's why I said  _you_ buy me a drink, old man,' Yuri replied, narrowing his eyes in what he hoped was a threatening gaze. Going by Otabek's raised eyebrows and very, very tiny smile, it probably wasn't one. Otabek didn't say anything for a few moments, instead watching Yuri with his stupid dark eyes. Yuri stared right back and Otabek sighed, looking away.  

'I'm going to order another round.  _You-'_  Otabek glanced at Yuri as he turned towards the bartender. '- are you going to wait on the balcony.'

'Does this mean you're buying me a drink?'

' _Durak_ _,'_ Otabek swore and Yuri decided he very much liked the sound of Otabek swearing. 'Just get lost and meet me out there,  _da?_ ''

Yuri grinned, leaning forward to hug Otabek very quickly before hopping off his seat and heading towards the balcony.

Otabek was a good friend. He brought Yuri a cider of some kind, flavoured with fruit and it wasn't terrible. He'd ordered three bottles and they leant against the railing of the balcony, sipping their drinks slowly. They talked about the competition, about how JJ really didn't deserve his bronze. How Katsuki really, really did deserve his silver. Yuri was feeling hot in his cheeks, but he found as he was half-way through his second bottle that he really didn't mind it that much. It was pretty cool out on the balcony anyway. Otabek was smiling at him, clearly amused by Yuri's newfound enthusiasm courtesy of alcohol, but he didn't say much, mostly nodding along to Yuri's conversation. Just like the last time they hung out, it was really nice.

And just like last time, they were interrupted. 

'Yurio!'

Yuri froze mid-sip, turning over his shoulder to see Yuuri Katsuki of all people coming in from the banquet hall. Yuri noticed two things immediately about Katsuki in that moment. One, his hair was slicked back like he wore it on the ice, making him look older despite his ugly, blue glasses. And two, he wasn't with Victor. Yuri swallowed his sip of cider, resolutely  _not bothered_ by Katsuki's appearance and Victor's absence. Otabek shifted slightly next to him, standing up a little bit straighter. Katsuki walked over, not wobbling at all like he had been last year. Looked like someone had learned their limits.

Katsuki was smiling, until he spotted the bottle in Yuri's hand. Then his face switched from friendly to shock. 'Yurio! Are- are you  _drinking?_ You can't drink, you're only a kid!'

'Bah, don't be such a baby, piggy,' Yuri said, waving a hand at him. Katsuki came up to Yuri and Otabek, crossing his arms and turning to Otabek.

'Did you buy him that?'

'It's fine. I'm watching him carefully,' Otabek replied sounding oh-so mature. Yuri bristled under Katsuki and Otabek talking about him like he wasn't there. He took a large gulp, mostly to spite Katsuki. 

'Did you want something,  _svin'ya?'_ Yuri asked angrily, resentful of the way his heart picked up a little every time Katsuki looked at him, even if he was mad. Not that Yuri would pay attention to that kind of thing, but Katsuki looked a little  _something_ when he was mad. 

'I-I wanted to talk to you,' Katsuki said, brown eyes shifting between Yuri and Otabek. Whatever that was about, Otabek seemed to get it, as he stood away from the railing, giving Yuri a pat on the shoulder.

'I was going in for some water anyway. _Davai_ ,' Otabek said, leaving Yuri and Katsuki alone on the balcony. 

Yuri watched Otabek leave, watched as Katsuki came up to stand next to him. Yuri ignored him, leaning out on the railing and watching the traffic below. He felt buzzed, like his blood was fizzing beneath his skin. It was probably the alcohol, but now Yuri really wasn't sure. 

'I wanted to congratulate you properly on your gold medal. I didn't get a chance to see you since the podium,' Katsuki said happily, whatever displeasure he had at Yuri's drinking clearly forgotten. Yuri said nothing about the fact that the reason Katsuki hadn't seen him was because he'd spent all his time sucking Victor's tongue down his throat. 'You were really amazing, Yurio. Like nothing I've ever seen. You deserved to win.'

'Not mad about your cancelled wedding then?'

Katsuki laughed and Yuri's heart sang at the sound of it. 

'No. Victor was a little premature in making such a declaration. But that's just Victor all over, never thinking things through,' Katsuki said, leaning his arms out over the railing. Yuri looked at Katsuki's fingers, looked at his shiny gold ring. 'Besides, it gives me something to work for next season.'

Yuri looked at Katsuki properly, not quite letting himself believe it yet. 'So, you're not retiring?'

'We're in this together, Yurio,' Katsuki said, grinning. He stood up straight and looked down at Yuri, eyes blazing. 'With Victor coming back, we've got to work to keep a hold of our records, after all.'

Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe something else entirely, but Yuri grinned back, laughing a little as he did. And he couldn't stop looking at Katsuki's lips the entire time. Katsuki's face was all warmth, letting Yuri in like his skating had all that time ago and Yuri felt like he was falling again only this time there was no one there to catch him. Katsuki reached out, putting a hand on Yuri's shoulder and squeezing.

'Don't let Victor catch you drinking,' Katsuki said sternly, but his smile betrayed him. Yuri liked that smile. Like it was just for Yuri and the secrets they kept from Victor. 

 

* * *

 

Victor was still going to be Katsuki's coach, _and_ his competitor,  _and_ his fiancé.

Which was just  _perfect_ and definitely not a recipe for disaster at all.

As terrible as Victor and Katsuki were together, it was nothing compared to them apart. Victor had to return to Russia to compete in the nationals, because he was a fucking idiot who took a year off skating and that's what you had to do when you abandon your rankings for twelve months. And every day sharing the ice with him was just torture. Victor was ill-tempered or silent, with absolutely no middle ground. Yuri really couldn't have a cared less how he was, but it was how Victor was affecting everyone else that made it difficult. 

'What is your problem?' Mila exclaimed, the words of her English badly stunted together with frustration after Victor had let out another tirade of abuse at her for taking up too much space with her spread eagles.

Victor flicked his fringe out of his face, eyes glaring and unforgiving. He said nothing though, pushing off to practice his program again. Yuri watched from the awning, taking a long drink of water. He'd almost feel sorry for Victor, if Victor didn't deserve everything he got. Victor knew perfectly well that the Russian and Japanese nationals clashed, he knew perfectly well that Japan was six hours ahead and he should know perfectly well that Katsuki had more on his mind right now than making sure he stayed awake long enough for their fucking Skype dates.

To make matters worse, if it were possible, Victor had decided that Yuri should be his confidant in all this. 

After practice on Tuesdays and Thursdays, Victor would drive Yuri back to Lilia's apartment as she had late night classes those days. And on these little trips, Victor thought it best to bring up his relationship woes:

'I'm worried about Yuuri,' Victor said, screen wipers humming through the rain one Tuesday evening. Yuri tried to look disinterested, leaning against the window. 

'Oh? Why? He forgot you say  _I love you_ for the fiftieth time?' 

' _Tsk_ , don't be rude, Yura,' Victor said, hands tightening on the wheel. His ring caught the light of a passing streetlamp. Orange, for one bright moment. 

'Fine, then. What's up with piggy?' Yuri asked, already knowing deep down that he'd probably regret it.

'I'm not sure he wants to marry me anymore,' Victor said quietly, streetlights in his eyes. Yuri sat up at that, genuinely surprised. His heart did a little skip- ambitious thing.

'Why-?' Yuri shook his head. 'Why would you think that?'

Victor sighed, tapping a finger on the steering wheel. They sat in silence for a long time. The rain thudded against the car as they stopped at a traffic light. Victor looked older now. Not old in itself, not exactly. But he almost looked human, and for Victor Nikiforov that practically amounted to the same thing. Yuri buried his hands into his hoodie pockets, just so Victor wouldn't be able to see that he was clenching his fists. Then, it was all over like it had never happened. Gloss slipped over Victor's face, cheeks alabaster and mouth carved marble. Beautiful, like Victor had always trained to be. 

'Never mind. You're too young to understand,' Victor said lightly, words flippant. Whatever he had thought of saying he had clearly reconsidered. Yuri tried not to let it show how badly he wanted to know what had Katsuki coming to his senses. It could be a myriad of things. Victor was as break-upable as he was fuckable.

'Okay, be dramatic,' Yuri said dourly, not pointing out that he was sixteen now since March, thanks very much and kicking back into his seat as the car left the lights. 

The rain reminded him of Katsuki's face for some reason. Probably all the crying. Yuri thought of the way Katsuki always tied his bathrobe to the left after he left the onsen. Thought of the way his biceps moved beneath his skin as he swam. If Yuri was blushing, he kept staring out the window so Victor didn't notice. 

Victor really had no idea what he was taking for granted, as far as Yuri was concerned.

 

* * *

 

 **00:04AM** _Happy birthday, katsudon_

 **06:34AM** Thank you, Yurio! ( ´ ▽ ` )ﾉ

 

* * *

 

By the time the next Rostelecom Cup rolled around, Victor and Katsuki were the picture of domestic bliss.

They were living together with Makkachin. They held hands in and out of the rink. Katsuki wore Victor's Russian sweater in Victor's Snapchat stories. They pair skated when they were given the time to do so after practice, continuing the tradition of sharing their exhibition together. They kissed a lot in the rink and always when Yuri happened to look at them. They planned their wedding for after the Grand Prix Final. They invited Yuri over for dinner, like a proper, grown up couple. Yuri always thought of a reason to decline. 

And Yuri? Yuri was growing.

It was officially, the worst time of Yuri's life.

When Yuri first noticed, it was when he pulled his leotard on one morning and the fabric skittered too far up from his ankles. Yuri stared at the empty space, his skin pale under the fluorescent. He pulled his socks up far, tightening his laces to hold them above the top of his skates. Yakov was going to notice immediately, make _the_ appointment. The one with the physiotherapist that every young skater dreaded from their first competitive step on the ice. Yuri gathered his hair up in a ponytail, definitely _not_ thinking about it.

He walked out to the rink, shedding his hoodie and throwing it onto a bench. Victor was already there, because of course he was. Yuri's heart did that thing it always did when Victor skated, even after all this time. Like it was breathing all on it's own- and then it wasn't.

Victor moved with a fluidity that transcended skill and blurred into genius. His obnoxious gold blades shining like it was calling to the ring on his finger that no matter what Victor was doing, Yuri was always drawn to looking at in the last few months.

Katsuki was standing at the awning in his own skates and his face was everything Yuri had ever hoped someone would look like when they watched him skate. No glasses to hide behind, Katsuki's face was open for the whole world to see the blatant admiration and adoration. Yuri thought that he looked so real that it wasn't fair that someone as unreal as Victor could have him as _both_ rival and lover.

Yuri felt Victor already had so much that he really should only be entitled to one or the other.

Katsuki turned, spotting Yuri out of the corner of his eye. Yuri felt a little hot under his collar at the sight of Yuuri Katsuki turning away from a skating Victor Nikiforov just to say hello to him. Katsuki raised a hand from the awning in a small wave, his gold ring winking at Yuri like Victor himself. Yuri really hated that thing.

 _'Privet,_ Yurio!' Kastuki said brightly, Russian slightly better. Yuri wondered what  _Yura_ would sound like out of Katsuki's mouth.  

And then something very strange happened.

Katsuki left the awning and walked over to Yuri with purpose, stopping just in front of him. He reached out, putting a hand on Yuri's head flat, then pulling the hand back to himself. The hand met the place between Katsuki's bottom lip and his chin. If Yuri wasn't blushing before, he knew he was now. He shoved Katsuki with both hands.

' _Oi!_ What are you doing, pervert?' 

'You're taller,' Katsuki said like it was obvious. Yuri stomped a leg petulantly, skate  _clumping_ off the padded ground. 

'Yeah?! What of it?' Yuri all but shouted. Katsuki blinked at him with his stupid brown eyes, opening his mouth to say something, but before he could-

' _Yuuri~'_ Victor had skated up the edge of the rink, long body laid over the edge of the awning in mock lamentation. 'Were you even paying attention?'

'Sorry, Vitya,' Katsuki said, turning away from Yuri and Yuri felt like someone had punched him in the stomach. Of course if Katsuki was going to learn about diminutives it would be for precious Victor. Victor smiled triumphantly at having Katsuki's attention back to him, like he didn't have enough. Yuri gritted his teeth, leaning down to take the guards off his skates. 

'Ah, Yuuri, how will you be able to learn if you can't even pay attention to your coach? Are you losing interest in me so quickly?'

Katsuki was over in a moment, arms slipping up Victor's forearms, pulling his elbows over the awning. Their lips met in the middle, chaste as it always was when Katsuki started it, but it wasn't long before Victor had both arms over and around Katsuki's waist, tugging forward like there wasn't a wall to separate them. There was something in the movement of it, something in the way Victor's teeth glinted as he smiled before Katsuki's mouth met his again that bled heat. It was private, and sexual and Yuri wanted it for himself. 

Yuri threw the only thing he had- his skate guards. They hit Victor on the shoulder, disrupting him from Katsuki. 'Don't be disgusting, old man!'

Katsuki blushed furiously as he stepped away from Victor, saying he was going to go and have a shower and he'd meet him at home. He patted Yuri on the shoulder as he walked past, telling them that the height suited him on the way out. Yuri bit his bottom lip, feeling exposed with his hair tied up. Nothing to hide behind. Yuri watched Katsuki leave, making sure not to meet Victor's gaze when he turned back and stepped out onto the ice from the barrier. Yuri tried to ignore Victor, but Yuri had spent years caught in those eyes and he knew when they were watching him.

 _'Chto?!'_ Yuri said irritably, facing Victor head on. 

Victor's face was unreadable, as always. Yuri was sure he could see a chink in the armour though. Something sharp in Victor's eyes, edge-line and deadly. Yuri stood up tall in his skates, unafraid. He thought he'd seen that look once before. And then, it was gone.

 _'Nichego,'_ Victor said, shrugging. 'I think I'm going to head home myself. Save Yuuri walking in this cold.'

'Do what you like.'

 

* * *

 

Yuri was in the flat of some friend of Mila's and he was very, very drunk.

Yuri was kind of aware of how drunk he was. He couldn't read his phone properly, nothing he typed came out right. English was well and truly not happening either, as Yuri couldn't seem to change his keyboard. He wasn't entirely sure what he had texted Otabek about an hour ago, but Otabek had stopped replying. Whatever- fuck him. What really mattered right now was that there was some guy from the local hockey team leaning on Yuri's shoulder, one hand on his chest as he giggled hysterically at Mila and some girl dancing in the middle of the living room like it was their own personal bedroom.

Yuri didn't find it amusing. He'd seen shit like that before.

The guy was talking now and Yuri couldn't focus on anything he was saying because now he was looking up at Yuri and Yuri had noticed that he had really, really nice brown eyes. 

What happened next Yuri missed the start of, but now he and this guy were kissing and Yuri had never kissed anyone before. It was not what he expected. He barely felt it, half aware of the guy pushing Yuri down onto his back. Yuri was sure his drink was spilling on the cushions of the couch. Yuri put his free hand on the guy's back, because it felt like the thing he should do and now there was a tongue pushing itself into his mouth. Something shifted in Yuri's stomach, flipping over and crawling all the way up to his jaw, tingling just underneath. 

Yuri shoved the guy off him, dropping his drink where it hit the carpet with a  _thud_.

'I'm going to be sick.'

_'Huh?'_

And oh, right. The guy couldn't speak English yet because- Yuri couldn't remember but he was going to throw up, he was certain. The music was too loud and his mouth felt too tight. He sat up, hunched over and the swooping in his stomach was the only warning he got before he threw up, violently down onto the floor and over his shoes. Yuri stared down at the pinkish liquid all over his feet, head spinning.

'Yuri!' 

Mila was at his side, hands rubbing his back in rough circles. She was talking, but Yuri wasn't listening. His throat burned, his whole body felt empty, like he was nothing but skin and somehow inflated. The music was something heavy now, bass reverbing in Yuri's chest. Mila got Yuri up, guiding him down the hall to the bathroom, where she just got him in time before he threw up again. Thankfully, in the toilet and not on his probably ruined shoes.

Yuri felt so terrible, he was shaking, reaching out and grabbing Mila's hand. He was scared, which was so stupid and he knew that but his heart was pounding and his stomach was really painful. He just wanted to be home, he wanted to be away from everyone, wanted Mila to stop shushing him as she pushed his hair out of his face. Everything smelt like vomit and for one, horrific moment, Yuri thought he might cry. 

'Yuuri,' he said. Mila looked at him, confused as she rubbed his cheek in comfort. 'Yuuri Katsuki.'

Yuri was trying to explain. To tell Mila that the only reason he had drank so much was because Katsuki had kissed Victor today in the rink and it had felt like dying. He wanted to tell Mila that he had only kissed that other guy because his eyes were brown. Katsuki's face flashed through Yuri's memory concurrent to Victor, both like a coin. Over and over, tumbling down. Yuri was crying now. 

Mila seemed to understand whatever he was saying, nodding quickly and she was gone for a few moments, talking to someone just outside the door. Yuri could just about hear her as she shouted over the music of the party. She was back shortly, pulling Yuri down onto her shoulder, rubbing him gently. She was shushing him again, telling him it would be all alright soon. Yuri shivered against her, unsure.

Yuri must've fallen asleep, or passed out, as the next thing Yuri knew he was being lifted off the bathroom floor.

One arm was down around his waist, the other holding his arm over the person's shoulder. Yuri blinked, nausea still prevalent, The music was some Western rap now, words throbbing right through Yuri's head. He looked up from his feet, up at the person carrying him out of the student flat.

Katsuki. Yuuri Katsuki.

One part of Yuri wanted to throw up all over again. The other completely melted in Katsuki's arms, relief so palatable that threatened to collapse him. 

Katsuki got Yuri into the back of a cab, climbing in after him, holding his hand tightly. They hadn't said anything yet, Katsuki's only words to the cab driver. Yuri stared down at their interlocked fingers and Katsuki's engagement ring stared right back him, every curve of it the curve of Victor Nikiforov's discerning gaze.  _Hah,_ Yuri thought to himself a little triumphantly, gripping Katsuki's hand tighter as the cab pulled away. Who knew what time it was now, probably after two am. And Katsuki was here, in this cab, holding Yuri's hand and  _not_ with Victor Nikiforov. Despite how very sick Yuri still felt, this part? This part felt great.

It was sliding into a warm bath at the onsen. The film of warm steam, all comfort and  _everywhere,_ all around Yuri like it was a second skin. It felt the way watching Katsuki skate felt. It was amazing. 

 

* * *

 

Yuri wasn't sure how long or far they had traveled, but soon Katsuki was helping him out of the cab and up the steps of an apartment block. Victor's apartment block. Yuri's heart sank and he gripped Katsuki's fingers so tightly he could feel the edge of the ring press into him. Katsuki turned to face him, his face all concern. Mouth bent like metal, eyes so deep behind his glasses that Yuri could fall straight through them. 

'Yurio, are you alright? Do you feel sick again?' Katsuki was up in Yuri's space, free hand raising up to feel Yuri's forehead, palm up and coming down to Yuri's jaw. 'You're so clammy. We need to get you inside.'

'Am I-?' Yuri swallowed thickly, suddenly worried he might just throw up again. But it passed. 'Am I in trouble?'

Katsuki's eyes changed colour, trees in autumn. Yuri swayed a little on his feet. Katsuki smiled, no teeth. No threat.

'Of course not.'

'What about Victor?'

'Victor's asleep, it's fine. Don't worry about it. Now come on, we need to go inside. It's freezing out here.'

Katsuki held Yuri's hand all the way up in the lift, all the way down the hallway, and only let go to fish his keys out of his pocket. He brought Yuri in, taking his hoodie and helping him out of his shoes. He brought Yuri past his and Victor's expensive, spotless kitchen. Laid him down on the couch that still had one of Katsuki's jumpers thrown over it. Yuri hadn't been there since Katsuki had moved in, and Katsuki was everywhere. It was his family in the photo frame on the shelves by the television. It was his shoes by the door. It was his hands, pushing Yuri's hair out of his face. 

'Do you need to be sick again?' Yuri shook his head, certain. Katsuki nodded. 'Would you like to shower? Brush your teeth?'

' _Davai,'_ Yuri said, leaning forward just so he could rest his head against Katsuki's chest. He could feel Katsuki's heart beneath him. Yuri wanted to know what Katsuki's heart said when it beat. Did it say Victor's name the way Yuri's used to?

Yuri pulled back, looking up into Katsuki's eyes again, because he could. Katsuki looked back, all sympathy because he was fucking dense. Yuri opened his mouth to tell him, tell Katsuki just how stupid he was. 

Then-

'Yuuri?' 

Victor came into the room, no shirt and loose pajama bottoms and every inch what anyone would expect of the beautiful Victor Nikiforov. Yuri's heart ached, deep and low like a hole had blossomed in it at the sight of Victor leaving the one bedroom. Victor came over, Makkachin trotting in behind him, nails clipping on the hardwood floor. The whole Nikiforov family- and Yuri. Yuri changed his mind, maybe he was going to throw up again. 

Katsuki stood up, meeting Victor in the middle and talking to him in hushed tones. Whatever he was saying, Victor seemed to be listening to. Yuri couldn't see all too well from the couch, eyes lazy like he had just woken up. He was moving, only realising when he nearly slid right off the couch. Victor was there in an instant, calling him _Yuratchka_ and if he looked like a real person, eyes thawed like frost in the afternoon, then Yuri ignored it. The last thing he wanted was to see confirmation of Victor's soul.

In the end, it was Victor who helped Yuri shower, giving him some of Katsuki's pajamas to wear. There were blue and soft and smelled like Katsuki's shampoo. Now Yuri did, too. Victor helped Yuri brush his teeth. Yuri wondered idly if it was Katsuki's toothbrush. 

Katsuki was waiting for them in the living room. Yuri felt much more sober after the shower, but his limbs still felt loose and head fuzzy. So much so that he could almost forget that Victor was in the room, that it wasn't just he and Katsuki. Katsuki stood up and helped Yuri down onto the couch again, head pillowed on one arm of it and facing straight down at the door of Victor and Katsuki's bedroom. Great.

Victor and Katsuki were speaking again, but it didn't last long. Victor bent low and kissed the top of Yuri's hair, still damp from the towel dry. Yuri swatted at him, grumbling about not being a child. Victor ruffled his hair slightly, before leaving, kissing Katsuki before he vanished into the bedroom, dog in tow. It really was just Yuri and Katsuki now. It was much better. 

'I'm going to wait with you a while, just in case you're ill again,' Katsuki said quietly, like they were keeping the whole thing a secret. Yuri liked that idea. 

'Water, katsudon,' Yuri said, eyes slipping closed as he leant his head back. Katsuki rose from the end of the couch. Yuri listened to him turn the tap on, listened to his soft, sock footsteps. Then Katsuki was back, kneeling down at Yuri's head and helping him sit up. He held the glass for Yuri, tipping it gently. Yuri felt every point of contact like the lines people draw between stars. They were a constellation.

Yuri sat up a little straighter, head swaying like his mind was falling a few steps behind his body. Katsuki watched him, carefully placing the water on the coffee table. Yuri thought of the way Katsuki looked when he did a quad flip, how much better he looked than Victor because every second of it's achievement could be read across Katsuki's face when he did it. Yuri remembered watching Katsuki's first nationals, how his step sequence eased with ballet grace and the way his hands had looked like they were feathers. He thought of that guy he had kissed at the party, and how that was really a very, very bad first kiss. Yuri remembered the feeling of taking the Grand Prix gold knowing Katsuki would be up next to him on the podium.

'I- I want to tell you something,' Yuri said carefully. And then, lightning struck through the storm clouds. 

Katsuki's eyes met Yuri's, glasses catching the light, pupils black as soot and wood burning around it. His mouth opened, but Yuri didn't want to hear it. Not yet. 

Yuri moved, arms coming up and around Katsuki's neck, one in his hair the other gripping his nape. Katsuki was balancing low on his feet, he was at a disadvantage, falling down onto Yuri as his own body hit the pillows. Katsuki's lips were soft and still half open when Yuri kissed him. His pursed lips met the wet of Katsuki's mouth, maybe even what could've been the tip of his tongue. Yuri held on tight to Katsuki, pressing himself up against him like Yuri could slip under his skin the way he had always thought he'd be able to do with Victor.

Then it was over.

Katsuki's hands were hard, pushing Yuri back but Yuri held firm. Katsuki looked down at him, colours swirling in browns and pinks and dark, dark eyelashes. 

'Yuri-'

'I think I fell in love with you,' Yuri said, whispering because this was a secret, too. He wanted to tell Katsuki that he had fallen in love with his skating, which was true. But the last part never made it and Yuri felt his lungs break inside him as his breath escaped him. 'So... Now you know.'

Yuri couldn't see properly in the low light from the lamp, alcohol fogging him. Katsuki was breathing heavily, hands up in surrender. Silence ticked past slowly but loud from the clock they kept on the bookshelf. Yuri recognised the clock from Hasetsu. He watched as Katsuki calmed down a little, running a hand through his hair. Yuri could feel his eyes getting heavy, felt the sleep pulling him down. 

'Sleep, Yura.'

Yuri smiled, despite everything.  _Yura_ sounded exactly the way he had always hoped it would.

 

* * *

 

If falling in love was skating, and skating was Victor Nikiforov, then it made sense that not being fallen in love with back was Yuuri Katsuki.

After all, things were always one or the other in their narrow world.

 

* * *

 

It was like it had never happened. Except it had it and it was carved into Yuri's memory like the line of a blade in the ice. Katsuki never brought it up, the morning after passing in a blur of Victor telling Yuri merrily that he and Katsuki would cover for him being ill with Yakov. Katsuki hadn't said anything at all that morning, only thing giving him away being the very faint blush he got whenever he caught Yuri's eye. Which wasn't often and after finishing breakfast, Katsuki fled for practice leaving Yuri with Victor acting as an insufferably smug nurse.

That had been two weeks ago. And in those two weeks, Katsuki had successfully managed to avoid Yuri entirely, spending the time they used to spend together at the rink even more wrapped up in Victor than usual.

Everyone who noticed blamed it on wedding day excitement as the Grand Prix drew closer. Yuri knew better. He knew what retreat looked like.

'I did something stupid,' Yuri said to Otabek via FaceTime, watching Otabek's dark features for any inkling of suspicion. Otabek quirked an eyebrow at him, quintessential of him. Yuri tried again. 'Well, I said something stupid, too.'

'I'm not surprised, with your temper,' Otabek said blandly, eyes moving away from the camera to look at something else in his room.

' _Oi, goviuk!_ It's not like that.'

'Clearly.'

Yuri bit his lip, bravado fading. He looked around the rink's locker room. It was just gone six in the morning; the place would be empty for at least another thirty minutes. And yet-

'The katsudon is angry at me,' Yuri said, knowing it to be untrue as he said but not sure how else to describe the situation without revealing too much. Otabek was looking at him again, face all lines and planes. Yuri could see faint stubble through the screen. He liked it. 

'Because of what you said,' Otabek replied; not a question. Yuri nodded slowly, eyes moving away to glance at the door of the locker room for a moment. Otabek waited for Yuri to meet his eyes again. Coal-black. 'Then apologise.'

' _Durak,_ it's not that simple!' Yuri snapped, frustrated at Otabek's unhelpfulness. He clicked his tongue, kicking the edge of his skates into the floor.

'Why not?' Otabek said, curiosity genuine.

Katsuki and what he meant to Yuri had been a secret for so long now; beyond private, becoming skin deep, like the coding of Yuri's blood or the lines of his muscles. His entire senior skating career, grown out in the shape of Katsuki's smile. And now it was all getting dangerously close to not-so-private. Teetering to the tumbling edge of exposed. Confessing to Katsuki was natural disaster. Admitting to Otabek would be suicide. 

'I can't tell you,' Yuri said, words soft.

Otabek looked at him for a moment, before nodding once, speaking as his chin came back up; 'Can you ask Victor for help?'

'No.'

'I see.'

Silence. Just for a while. But to Yuri he could feel the earth turning beneath him. Gravity. 

'You and Katsuki are close,' Otabek said eventually, words careful like he was aware. Almost like he knew. Yuri bristled, but waited. 'He's your friend. I'm sure he'll come around.'

Friend. Yuri felt his breath catch just a little at the word. He'd never thought to call Katsuki his friend before.

 

* * *

 

Yuri was caught three days later.

It was a stupid thing to do, really. Indulgent and childish; Yuri should've known it would only have led to trouble. He'd come to the rink on a Sunday, the typical rest day with the knowledge that he'd have the rink to himself. Even so, Yuri had come early, just after seven in the morning to skate by himself. He really hadn't intended on getting himself into the trouble he ended being in, but like most things in the last twelve months, Yuri found himself doing them anyway.

Yuri set his phone on the awning with his portable speaker, setting the playlist Lilia had designed for him. 

The music was easy and familiar. It pulled Yuri up like puppet strings. Across the ice in long sweeps, arms bent, legs pointed. Single-loops, short but paced. A triple-axel, all speed, landing loud in the rink under the faint trickle of music, speaker not enough to really fill the rink. Just enough to carry Yuri forward. He gathered speed, twisting his body around and feeling his longer legs wobble beneath him with the stretch. Growing was going to ruin his skating if he didn't watch it.

The soundtrack shifted into allegro and Yuri ignored his stubborn hip, wider than it should be with swelling bones. Yuri was all speed and he thought of Victor at his age. He thought of Victor's long hair, Yuri's not far from it now. He thought about how long and how desperately he had wanted to be like Victor, to skate the way he could. Yuri had proven he could, proven he could skate better even. And yet when Yuri thought of moving forward, it was still Victor he saw ahead of him.

Yuri lifted off into a triple toe-loop, landing almost perfectly but he felt his knee dip just a little from the force of it. Yuri growled to the empty space in frustration. Victor had always landed like the ice had risen up to meet him with welcome arms. Still did. 

Skates skidded, ice spitting dust as Yuri halted. 

What he did next was beyond impulsive. Born out of the need to crawl out of Victor Nikiforov's legacy, growing tall and insipid around him. Try on something purely to make Yuri feel good about skating. And that which was not Victor had to be-

Yuri went to his phone, choosing the track and setting it for repeat. 

Yuri had studied the program extensively. Every bend, every spiral. He knew it off by heart, could recite it back like a prayer. 

 _Yuri On Ice_ filled the rink like water. Yuri swam through it. Arms out, swirling speed in the first step sequence. The music picked up and Yuri felt his heart quicken in his chest with the adrenaline of it. Quadruple toe-loop, double toe-loop combination. Breathe in, breathe out. One, two and down again arms open welcoming the world in. Not that Yuri would ever do such a thing. But there was no one here.

Katsuki was an idiot. So what if Yuri had kissed him? 

Quadruple Salchow. Skate caught slightly as Yuri landed, but the momentum kept him going. All the way into his camel spin. Yuri was beginning to feel tired now.

Yuri wished he could explain properly. But he wasn't entirely sure he even knew how. Katsuki would probably be too dense to understand. Or too blind. After all, Katsuki was completely swept up in Victor. Had been for so long now, longer than Yuri had ever known him. Nothing blocked out the sun quite like Victor Nikiforov's shadow. Yuri understood that better than most.

Triple-loop. Yuri's hair was beginning to stick to his forehead now from the sweat.  

Victor didn't understand Katsuki like Yuri did. It was impossible for him to do so. Victor had never had an idol, never had someone to look up to. He had set all the records himself. Katsuki and Yuri had Victor, and thus they had each other. That was something just between them, something that Victor couldn't be a part of. It may not be marriage, but it was a commitment in itself. Or it was to Yuri. And anyway, Katsuki wasn't married yet. Might never be if he didn't get that gold medal at the Grand Prix this year.

Maybe Victor would throw the competition for him.  _Hah,_ Yuri thought spitefully.  _Unlikely._ Victor may claim to be as in love with Katsuki as he was with skating, but Yuri knew better. Yuri knew Victor was more likely to give up his gold ring than his gold medal.

Or at least, he certainly hoped to know that.

Yuri's arms extended out, too long with puberty and fingers splayed as the music slowed momentarily for the bridge. Bending down in the deep lunge, Yuri thought of Katsuki's face from the night he had told the cutlet-bowl the truth. Yuri's heart threatened to erupt out of him at the memory. Yuri wondered if he even knew anyone with eyes as brown as Katsuki's. Turning into the spread eagle, Yuri remembered what it felt like to have Yuuri Katsuki kiss him, if only just for a moment. 

One perfect moment Yuri had never realised he'd ached for.

The next jump combinations passed in a blur and soon the music was demanding Yuri to take the step sequence. Yuri had always loved Katsuki's step sequences. Ballet poise and stage demonstration, something only dancers could do. Something only Yuri could see for its true nature. The fierce drive that only ballet could give someone. Yuri had that drive, too.

 _Yuri On ice_ tumbled around him, body spinning and Yuri wondered if what he was feeling now was in any way close to how Katsuki felt when he did the program himself.

Quad flip next. Victor's quad flip. Yuri took up speed, bent his body and then- Yuri skated out, dropping the program and spinning into a large spread, before bringing himself to an ungraceful halt just off-centre. The music played on into it's crescendo, Yuri breathing heavily from exertion. He bent over onto his knees, hair falling forward. Even now, his knees stood too high from the ground. How much taller would he get?

Katsuki grew eight inches between his junior and senior division. 

Suddenly, the music paused before it completely faded out and someone started clapping. Yuri jumped backwards on the ice, almost toppling over. He looked over towards the speaker to Victor standing at the awning, winter coat still on. Ring winking at Yuri in the morning light that streamed in through the windows as Victor's hands came together in applause, noise ringing. Yuri felt his heart stop and the ice crack beneath, everything crumbling down.

 _'Udivitel'no!'_ Victor said, mouth open like a heart and beating enthusiasm. Yuri said nothing, incapable. Victor stopped clapping and his eyes met Yuri's from across the ice. 

They were the colour of petrol in shadows of the under-lit rink. Viscous and one spark away from setting alight. They reflected too well, Yuri seeing everything he had skated for flicked back to him. Victor's smile morphed, twisted into something almost sinister. Knowing. Yuri stood up straight, skating towards Victor. He was no coward. He would not run just because Victor told him to.

Yuri met Victor at the edge, awning wall between them. Yuri locked his phone, music still paused from when Victor had done so. His wallpaper of katsudon pirozhki clipping black. Yuri stared up into Victor's eyes- acid green to cool blue. 

'What are you doing here, old man?' Yuri asked, hands on the awning and hoisting him up the bare inches he needed to meet Victor's height. In his skates and Victor in his street shoes, they were almost matched. Victor raised his head, taking advantage of his sole inch over Yuri.

'Yuuri and I were going to do pair-skating,' he said, words fluid with warmth. He stuck his hands in his coat pockets, head tilting. Every line of him tailored to be open. Yuri wasn't going to fall for it. Yuri and Katsuki may share many things, but gullibility in the face of Victor Nikiforov wasn't one of them.

'Where is the pig?' Yuri asked, aiming for disinterested. 

'I let him sleep in. Thought I'd come and warm up while I waited,' Victor said easily, smile hinting teeth. Warning, maybe. Yuri gritted his right back.

'Well, I was here first, so you and your piggy can piss off,' Yuri spat out between his teeth. Victor leant down, smile aimed at Yuri the way Katsuki's hand reached out at the end of his free-skate.

'You skated Yuuri's program beautifully,' Victor said thoughtfully. 'Shame about the quadruple flip though.'

Yuri flushed terribly, could feel it bleed all the way down his neck. He crossed his arms, defensive; 'I don't have to prove myself to you. I'm not your pig.'

Victor turned his head and it was _the angle_ because now his smile was all threat. Victor was ice incarnate in that moment; hair silver, beautiful and expression freezing cold. Yuri shivered under his cutting gaze, feeling more exposed than he ever had when skating _Agape_. Skating  _Yuri On Ice_ had been so foolish. Yuri may as well have written the whole thing out in clear Russian. Victor raised one of his hands, finger poised over his lips. Careful surprise. Yuri held his breath.

'You should wait for Yuuri!' Victor said, and his face shifted back again, eyes sparkling. ''I'm sure he'd be very happy to see you try the program again!'

Yuri  _tsked_ in anger, fists clenched and swooping down to his hips as he puffed his chest up in challenge. Yuri wasn't one of Victor's little sycophants, he wouldn't fall for such things. Victor grinned, entertained. 

'You're still so young, Yura,' Victor said and it felt like he was twisting a knife in Yuri's stomach. Something that on anyone else's face would like sympathy but on Victor looked like triumph. 'So much you still don't understand. You shouldn't push yourself so hard at sixteen.'

You don't know what love is, boy.

 _'Mne nasrat’, chto ty dumaesh,'_ Yuri said spitefully. He snatched his speaker and phone and went to leave the ice. Let Victor and Katsuki have their fucking date. 

But Yuri felt like he was suffocating. There was no denying it. Victor knew. 

 

* * *

 

Katsuki found him the next day.

Yuri had stopped at the Starbucks by the rink for a drink before practice and was just leaving, blowing the steam off his coffee when Katsuki walked in. Katsuki was wearing his practice gear with one of Victor's hoodies on over it, scarf wrapped up all the way under his chin. Yuri froze, cup shaking only slightly as his hand began to tremble. Katsuki smiled, face pink with the cold. He walked over to Yuri, all confidence and maturity. Most days Yuri forgot, how much older Katsuki was.

'Yurio! I saw you from across the street, I hope you don't mind,' Katsuki said. He was wearing gloves, pulling them out of his pockets as he approached. Yuri liked the gloves. Katsuki looked at Yuri kindly and Yuri shrugged in his Russian sweatshirt, self-conscious. 'I was hoping we could walk to practice together.'

'Won't Victor miss you?' Yuri replied, taking a sip of his still too hot coffee. Katsuki laughed softly, blooming warmth. 

'I'm sure he'll survive the twenty minutes,' he replied, turning towards the door and walking alongside Yuri as they made their way out.

'I wouldn't be so sure,' Yuri muttered as Katsuki held the door open for him. Yuri glared at him. He didn't need chivalry. 

They walked in silence for a while, snow drifting down on top of them. Yuri kept sneaking glances over, watching the snow get caught in Katsuki's dark hair. Katsuki adjusted his glasses, throwing a glance of his own and catching Yuri staring. Yuri threw his eyes forward, taking another gulp of his coffee. A car drove past, snow crunching beneath its tires. Yuri was starting to think Katsuki hadn't planned this very well. Or maybe he was just more vindictive than Yuri initially thought, wanting Yuri to stew in the memory of what it felt like to kiss him. 

Yuri pucked a stray bit of snow with his boot. No, that was far more of a Victor thing to do.

'I'm glad I saw you,' Katsuki said at last, looking ahead as they made their way down the street. 'I've wanted to talk to you for a while, but I wasn't sure how to do it.'

Yuri drank his coffee. Katsuki sighed, breath white in the cold. 

'I want you to know that I really do admire you, Yurio,' Katsuki said, voice even. He wasn't even blushing. Yuri couldn't look away from his face now, even as they walked. 'You're so talented. And your dedication is something I find really inspiring. You make me want to be a better skater, push me to try and reach new levels. I hope you understand that.'

Yuri understood. Had always understood. 

'You're my greatest rival, and you're the member of our team that means the most to me,' Katsuki said, the last words coming out slowly. He stopped, catching Yuri watching again. Yuri stopped, too. They stood in the street watching each other, snow falling. Katsuki wasn't smiling anymore. 'You're still so young. There are things you don't know yet. I- I was really flattered to hear I meant so much to you, Yura. But I needed to tell you what you were to me. What you'll always be to me. And- well, it's just that.'

It's ineloquent, like most things Katsuki did off the ice. But like everything Katsuki did, it was honest to the point of blunt and Yuri wasn't sure he could ask for more than that. Even if it wasn't what he wanted to hear. Yuri gripped his coffee a little tighter. There was no reason for his heart to feel so heavy. Katsuki had just acknowledged him the way he'd always wanted to be acknowledged. He'd addressed Yuri as his rival, solely. Not one mention of Victor. Their skating was still between them and in the end that was what was important.

But Yuri's eyes still felt a little hot at the corners. He looked away and started walking, throwing the words behind him.

'If you want to keep being a rival, you'll actually have to start trying in training, you know? Grand Prix is only a week away, _p_ _iggy._ '

Katsuki laughed and suddenly everything felt a little bit better. A little less terrible. They walked to the rink together, Victor welcoming both of them with a wave. Yuri left them as they went to hold hands. He finished his coffee, throwing it in the bin with a little more force than necessary.

Falling in love had been really easy. Falling out of love had to be just as simple, right?

 

* * *

 

Gold suited Katsuki much better around his neck than around his finger.

This time, they were getting married for real and oh, wasn't everyone just thrilled for them?

Yuri wondered if every banquet he ever went to from now on would turn out to be another exhibition for the Nikiforov-Katsuki's. If that's what they were going to call themselves. Yuri hoped not. There was only so much he could take, and only one Nikiforov was definitely his threshold. The banquet erupted as Victor took Katsuki in his arms, dipping him low, back bent like a bow and Victor was the arrow. Katsuki's smile was electric and it lit up the room. 

Yuri leant against Otabek's shoulder as Otabek politely clapped along with the crowd. He blew the hair out of his face, his braids coming undone after the long evening; 'Let's get out of here'.

'Where would you like to go?' Otabek asked, stopping his clapping to pay full attention to Yuri. Yuri thought that might be his favourite thing about Otabek. He always paid attention to Yuri without Yuri ever having to ask. 

'I don't know, just away from here. They're disgusting,' Yuri said miserably. Otabek didn't laugh, but without looking at him Yuri knew he was smiling.

'I can't take you far. Your coach is watching me,' Otabek said and Yakov was indeed hovering nearby. Yuri growled, thumping his head against Otabek in frustration. He was taller than he had been last year, but Otabek still had him beat by a good few inches. It was nice. 

' _Bah,_ you're useless.'

'Afraid so.'

Katsuki and Victor were dancing now. It wasn't clear who was leading, but when one was as accomplished as the pair of them were, then Yuri figured it hardly mattered. They seemed to have it all worked out, moving effortlessly across the dancefloor. Victor all stormy twirls and Katsuki a solid mountain in the centre, anchoring Victor to him like he did in most things. But he looked weightless when Victor gripped by the waist, lifting him up with strength in their  _pas de deux_. Yuri never did see the draw of pair-skating. 

He always preferred to be alone.

'I'm going to get some fresh air, all this _love_ is making me sick,' Yuri said quietly, standing up straight and tugging his suit jacket closer around himself. Otabek put a hand on his wrist before he could move, hand warm and firm. Yuri looked at it. Otabek's fingers were so long they went all the way around.

'Do you want me to come with you?' Otabek asked, voice steady, betraying nothing. Perhaps what surprised Yuri the most was that he did not say _no_ straight away.

' _Net,_ I'm alright,' Yuri said, using his other hand to brush Otabek off. Not that he needed to, as Otabek let go gently. 'That Phichit guy is still looking for you for his stupid Instagram anyway. Don't know how you stand him.

Otabek's mouth twitched; 'Imagine, knowing someone addicted to Instagram.'

Yuri hit him, but only a little; 'I'm your friend, you have to with me.'

Yuri made his way out of the banquet hall and into the foyer of the hotel. It was chillier out there, rotating doors of the lobby pulling the winter wind in. Yuri bypassed the reception desk, ignoring the way the concierge cheerily greeted him. He threw himself down in one of the lounge chairs, back to the banquet. He could still hear the music, violin strings and fast piano now. People were clapping along. Chris had probably joined the  _Victuuri_ party. Yuri groaned, closing his eyes and leaning back, letting his head hit the back of his chair. 

Yuri wasn't sure how long he was sitting there, fingers growing cold as they gripped the arms of the chair, before a voice interrupted his brooding; 'Yurio?'

Yuri opened his eyes to see Katsuki standing over the chair, looking over its back and straight down at Yuri upside-down. His glasses were a little far down his nose. Yuri wondered if they'd fall off. Yuri looked at his eyes, like he always did. Still brown, still looking at Yuri like Katsuki could never figure out what to do with him. Yuri frowned back up at him.

'What, pig?'

'I was looking for you,' Katsuki said blandly, stepping around the chair and sitting on the little coffee table in front of it despite there being a perfectly good chair next to it. Yuri watched as Katsuki sat in front of him, body leaning forward. Watched as Katsuki ran a nervous hand through his hair, slicked back again but longer than it had been last year, so his bangs were less fly-away. Then Katsuki met Yuri's eyes, saying nothing. It made Yuri's stomach flip.

'Well, you found me. So  _what?_ ' Yuri said, grip on the chair a little tighter. Katsuki blinked.

'I wanted to ask you something.'

'So spit it out.'

Katsuki laughed softly, humoured breath. Yuri blushed, just a little. Katsuki looked at him again, face open and inviting. Arms out, spread eagle. 

'I'd like you to be my best man,' Katsuki said, a look of determination in his eyes that matched that of his free-skate in the Grand Prix. Yuri's mouth fell open, genuinely not expecting it. 

Yuri waited for the drop; the feeling he got when he knew a jump was wrong before he even took off. The warning before the fall. But it didn't come. Instead, Yuri let go of his grip on the chair, relaxing a little into the warmth of Katsuki's gaze at him. Katsuki was inviting him, not just to the wedding, but into the wedding party itself. He wanted Yuri in the ceremony. He wanted Yuri to be part of the moment he signed it all away- his career, his life, all to Victor fucking Nikiforov. Yuri wanted to be angry, but something held him back. Something molten beneath the surface of his skin. 

'Won't Victor mind?'

_Won't Victor mind that I was in love with you?_

Yuri caught his thoughts like fish in nets. He wasn't sure when he had started referring to his feelings for Katsuki in the past-tense. Wasn't sure when he started considering Katsuki a closed chapter. Maybe Yuri had retired Katsuki longer than Katsuki had been considering retiring himself. 

'I- never told Victor,' Katsuki said carefully, stuttering only the smallest bit. Only so Yuri would notice. Yuri knew Katsuki didn't mean that he hadn't told Victor he wanted Yuri to be best man. He thought of Katsuki's face, all those weeks ago after Yuri had kissed him. Yuri felt his heart swell like a tide inside him. Katsuki smiled kindly; 'Wasn't really mine to tell.'

'Don't you have to tell your husband everything?' Yuri asked, toeing the line.

'He's not my husband yet.'

'He will be in a week,' Yuri frowned.

'Then I'll tell him in a week,' Katsuki smirked, bending low a little and all play now with his smile slanted, eyebrows teasing. Yuri liked that smile on him. It reminded him of Victor and for the first time, that didn't seem so bad.

Yuri laughed, quiet and genuine. Katsuki laughed with him, knotting his hands together over his knees. Yuri looked at his ring, suddenly seeming that little bit smaller. They sat in silence for a few moments, the music of the banquet rolling over them. Yuri's heart thumped loudly in his chest. He was sure Katsuki could hear it, they weren't so far apart. Then, Yuri moved. He'd done this once before, moved forward like such, but he had been drunk then and unsure of what he wanted. Yuri knew what he wanted now.

Yuri's arms wrapped around Katsuki's waist, burying his face into Katsuki's neck as he hugged him. It was like slipping into a memory, last year's Grand Prix swimming over Yuri's mind as Katsuki's arms came down around him, hugging him back tightly. Yuri spoke into the cloth of Katsuki's suit shoulder, words slightly muffled, a part of him still a little embarrassed and half-hoping Katsuki wouldn't hear him.

'Be my friend.'

Katsuki huffed out a small breath over Yuri's head, squeezing him a little tighter.

'Of course.'

 

* * *

 

Falling out of love with Yuuri Katsuki turned out to be remarkably easy the moment he wasn't Yuuri  _Katsuki_ anymore.

Of course, he kept his last name for the sake of his competitive career. But Yuri had been best man. He had seen the register and he saw how Victor and Yuuri had decided to share the marriage between them. It may surprise those that didn't know them as well as Yuri, but no one knew them as well as Yuri. Victor Nikiforov had never followed anyone in his life- until Yuuri Katsuki. And it was as true in marriage as it had been without it.

Yuri was learning to know Victor a little bit better, too. Give the real Victor a chance. Yuri found he liked knowing the man casting the shadow much better than the shade itself.

Otabek followed Yuri around the ice at a leisurely pace. They were in VDNKh ice-rink, following the ambling masses of the Christmas crowd. Otabek had come back to Moscow with Yuri after the wedding in Japan. Yuri didn't understand why Otabek would want to skate with a bunch of strangers who got in the way so often that the most exotic thing they could to was simply turn around just to check in on the other. But Yuri found he didn't mind too much. The conversation was easy and Yuri liked the way Otabek would take his hand and move him out of the way when a particularly enthusiastic child threatened to run him down from behind.

'It was a nice wedding,' Otabek said as they rounded a corner, grace easy. Yuri slipped alongside him effortlessly. 'Good food. Which is really saying something for a wedding.'

' _Da!_ Katsuki's mother made the food. It's the best food I've ever had,' Yuri said, smiling at the memory of introducing Otabek to katsudon. 'I'll have to give you one my grandpa's katsudon pirozhki!'

'Is that a thing?' Otabek said, shifting to pass a bumbling woman and her boyfriend. Yuri zipped past easily to catch up. 

'Yes. They're amazing. And I've been practicing,' Yuri said, pride sneaking into his voice. Otabek smiled at him. That little smile he did where just the corners of his mouth turned up.

'Sounds great, then,' Otabek replied. Yuri smiled, pushing his hair out of his face. His ears were getting cold in the snow, but Yuri ignored it, enjoying himself too much. Otabek looked at him as they glided around some children. 'You were a good best man. Your speech was awful though.'

 _'Oi!'_  

'Only you would think to call a groom a pig at his wedding reception,' Otabek teased, dark eyes glancing over at Yuri. Yuri blushed, but just a little and mostly from the cold, he was sure. 'I thought Katsuki's kimono was nice.'

'Hakama, not kimono,' Yuri corrected, sure he would never forget after he made the same mistake and Yuuko Nishigori had been firm to correct him. 'And definitely. Katsuki made much more of an effort than Victor. But when doesn't he?'

Both he and Otabek laughed at that.

After skating, Otabek bought Yuri a hot chocolate. Lilia would not be happy, banning the substance extensively. It tasted amazing, warming Yuri all the way to the tips of his freezing ears. They walked along Moscow, the Christmas lights changing the shape of the streets and making the snow shimmer. Yuri wasn't that interested in Christmas, but over the last few years the decorations had gotten progressively more Western and he had to admit that was something about them. 

Yuri took out his phone, opening the media WhatsApp Victor had just posted in the skaters group chat. It was a selfie of himself and Katsuki, Victor's face pressed right up against Katsuki's cheek in a kiss, silver hair mussed. Katsuki's mouth was open in what was no doubt some form of protest, but his cheeks were red. The photo came with the message  _Can you believe he's my husband now? Only took one gold medal too!_ Yuri rolled his eyes, shoving his phone back into his pocket as Otabek checked his own. 

'They're really something,' Otabek said, reading the group thread. 

'They're revolting,' Yuri replied, taking a long sip of his hot chocolate. Otabek hummed in response, putting his phone away as they walked. 

 

* * *

 

Later, in the restaurant where they're having dinner, Otabek didn't mention Katsuki, or Victor or the wedding again. Yuri tried to pretend he didn't notice, but he caught himself trying not to bring it up either. When Otabek got up to use the restroom, Yuri took his phone out again and scrolled through his photos. Asides from the ones he took of himself and Otabek today, most of his most recent ones were from the wedding. 

Katsuki had looked so different than Yuri had ever seen him. His hakama was black and grey, making his eyes seem all the warmer. He hadn't worn his glasses for the ceremony, which was both striking in terms of how he looked, but also extremely amusing in that the contacts Katsuki were using hadn't been strong enough and he still had to squint just a little bit. It had made Yuri gape openly when Katsuki had confessed to him after the ceremony and he had asked Yuri to find his glasses for him.

'Wait, so you couldn't see Victor's face at all?' Yuri had asked, amazed. 

'O-of course I could!' Katsuki had stuttered, hair falling slightly from where it had been combed back as he raised his hands in panic. Yuri had only fixed him with a glare. 'Well.. I could when we were up at the register.'

Yuri had laughed at him then; 'That's cold, cutlet-bowl.'

'Oh, shut up. Besides, I look at him every day,' Katsuki had retorted, face a little pink along the nose. But it didn't last long- he had joined in laughing with Yuri almost immediately. 'Don't tell him. He was so excited for me to try the contacts.'

Yuri scrolled through the photos now in the restaurant. Most of the ones he had taken were of guests, namely Otabek, and selfies. A lot of them had Katsuki in them, too. A selfie in the waiting room before the ceremony started, Katsuki's hand on Yuri's shoulder and eyes closed. Katsuki caught up in a dance with Yuuko, face split into a wide smile and cheeks tinted beneath his glasses. A group picture with himself, Katsuki, Phichit and Victor, who had been all style in his sleek suit, grey pinstripes on his waistcoat to match Katsuki's hakama. 

Yuri scolled all the way back, all the way to the Grand Prix two years ago. Of the photos he'd kept of his and Katsuki's dance battle. Yuri didn't even think about it. He selected the photos and deleted them all. Even cleared his Recently Deleted folder after. He half-considered getting rid of the wedding photos, too. But he decided against it. Instead, Yuri selected the picture of the group of them from the reception. He made it his home-screen.

Yuri looked at Katsuki and Victor's faces around the apps. It was a nice photo of all of them, even if he didn't know Phichit that well. Besides, not like anyone would ever see it. 

 

* * *

 

 **16:43PM** _Don't mess it up, old man. Divorces are expensive_.

 **16:46PM** Such little faith, Yurio! 

 

* * *

 

Yuri had faith. He was Katsuki's friend, after all. 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Vdokhnoveniye. To yest' to, chto imeyet znacheniye. - Inspiration. That is what matters.  
> Ahuyet - what the fuck!  
> Shiranai - dunno  
> Mudak - asshole  
> Hai - okay  
> Dedushka - grandpa  
> Davai - see you later/sure (in it's use here)  
> Ya sobirayus' vyigrat' - I'm going to win  
> Durak - dumb asshole  
> svin'ya - swine  
> Chto! - what  
> Nichego - nothing  
> Udivitel'no - amazing  
> Mne nasrat’, chto ty dumaesh - I don't care what you think
> 
> This is just a lazy, indulgent character piece that completely got away from me and I'm sorry to inflict it on any of you.
> 
> www.victorsporosya.tumblr.com


End file.
